


May 31st, 1832

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Crying, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:03:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: Grantaire always thought of Enjolras as a shining beacon, completely unaffected by fear and doubt. He also firmly believed that nothing he could say or do, none of his antics would affect the man in any way.





	May 31st, 1832

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt.

May 31st, 1832

Grantaire stared at his closed door morosely. The door stared back at him, or so Grantaire imagined. He wouldn’t have put past the damn thing to be smirking at him mockingly. ’Left all your things, keys included in the Musain again, have you, scoundrel?’ he could almost hear it saying.

With one last rude hand-gesture at the door he turned and trudged back to the pub – good thing it was but a five minutes’ walk from where he lived, otherwise he may not have bothered.

The backroom was dark and deserted, lit only by moonlight through dusty, narrow windows. He blindly felt around his usual seat until he found his pouch and bag.

There was a small noise from one of the corners.

Grantaire frowned. Could it be mice or some other small animal? Or some unfortunate soul who passed out drunk and got left behind?

There was the noise again – this time he heard it clearly. It sounded a lot like a sob.

He squinted his eyes and – there – just there, just beside a patch of moonlight, almost perfectly concealed in the shadows he spotted something white. On closer inspection it turned out to be a blond head.

The head of Enjolras.

Grantaire stared and stared some more. He must have fallen asleep in front of his locked door and dreaming now – it was impossible that his marble angel, his phoenix would be here, crying curled up on the dirty floor of an even dirtier pub.

He shuffled closer, reached out and carefully touched the apparition, just to see if it was real.

It was – the head snapped up. For a long moment they looked at each other, frozen in place, unable to react. Finally Enjolras lowered his head again.

‘Leave’ he whispered.

Pretending not to have heard it Grantaire crouched down in front of him and gently touched his knee.

‘What’s the matter? Did something happen?’

‘Just leave me be.’

‘I can’t just leave you here like this!’

‘You can and you should.’

‘But…’

‘Grantaire’ Enjolras hissed, struggling to get the words out around his sobs ‘I don’t want your pity, I want your absence. For once in your aimless life will you respect my wishes and just _leave me be_?’

Grantaire’s blood ran cold. A lump was threatening to form in his throat, he could feel it.

‘I-… But I… I respect you, Enjolras!’ he hung his head ‘I love you.’

Enjolras raised his head, so shocked and irritated he even stopped crying.

‘You _what_ now?’

By now Grantaire realised his mistake – he should never have let the words escape his mouth. Hell, up until this moment he didn’t even fully realise they were true. But there was no backing out from this now.

‘I love you.’

‘Oh really now!’ Enjolras spat ‘Really! You talk all sticky sweet to me, sometimes you almost deceive me into thinking you’re trying to be kind but all you ever _say_ are sarcastic digs or mockery. You buzz around me like an annoying, persistent fly only to keep reminding me how little faith you have in our cause, how pointless you think our fight is, how much contempt you have for me and everything I stand for! You call me an unfeeling statue – don’t think I didn’t hear that! _Which part of all that spells ‘love’ to you?!_ ’

Grantaire stared, numb, paralysed. When he recovered a bit he jolted up and darted out the door, not even trying to fight the tears as they started to fall. Now he’s done it! All this time he was convinced that all he’s said and done rolled off of Enjolras like water off a duck’s back, that the man barely even noticed his existence. But apparently in his desperate attempts to get a reaction out of him, to get him to notice him he didn’t only manage to get under his skin but to hurt him.

He never wanted that. Never ever, not in a million years! And now he’s gone and done it.

He sighed, rubbing at his face. He knew he had to try and clear up this mess, but he hadn’t the first idea where to begin.

Six days later Fate presented him with one last chance to reconcile with Enjolras.

He took it.

**Author's Note:**

> (He wasn't crying because of Grantaire-related reasons, but his presence sure didn't help lift his mood. Also various characters stumbling upon E as he cries is apparently becoming a preferred genre of mine.)


End file.
